Mirror of My Soul by Joey Hill (readict books txt) 📗

certainly read his desire, his intent, but she showed no fear, no compulsion to retreat.

He caught her shoulders. When her body touched his he almost groaned. Maybe he did. All he knew was he needed her in his arms and his mouth on hers before time could move forward.

The strength in his grip, the passion a living thing in his eyes, made Marguerite tremble, though she managed to keep it inside. Barely. It terrified and exhilarated her at once to know he’d wanted and needed her with the same fierceness. How could

something be so frightening and reassuring at once?

He stared at her a long moment. The intensity of it was enough to have those

around them instinctively giving them space. It didn’t surprise her. Tyler had class in every aspect of his life. He’d tolerate no one in his home lacking it.

When he brought his mouth down on hers, she snaked her hands up the inside of

his arms and curled her hands around his neck. Burying her fingers into his hair at his nape, she brought her body into his, aching, seeking. His mouth held hers with sure possession, almost savage need.

She was sure it was a good thirty seconds before either of them knew or cared that they were not alone. When he raised his head, she noticed the wounds on his face were healing. Still noticeable, but the tape was gone.

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He shifted his glance. “Good Lord, you’ve absolutely frozen the men here. They’re not sure whether they’re supposed to worship you or be terrified.”

“You don’t appear to be terrified.”

He smiled, brought her closer. His voice dropped, his lips pressing to her ear. “I’m better at hiding it.”

“Not as much as you think.” She closed her hands on his forearms. “You’re

shaking.”

“So are you.”

His lips were damp with the touch of hers. “You know,” he said in a soft rumble.

“I’ve watched you take a sub just over the cliff edge of sanity. Hold him there until I couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t snap from the mental strain. But you have that uncanny knack of giving him release a second before he’d completely lose his fucking mind for all time. These last couple days I figured you were trying that out on me.”

Her lips curved because she heard the wry humor. And because it honestly felt

so…good to be standing here. So incredible.

“Was it working?”

His eyes swept heat through her with their look of dangerous purpose. “One more day and I’d decided to storm your place and drag you home with me by your hair like some kind of barbarian.” He wrapped his hand in the tail of hair that fell forward over her shoulder and tugged, his thumb making a discreet caress over her nipple. She emitted a short gasp of reaction before she could stop herself. His eyes darkening, he continued to stroke the hair in his grasp, making that idle pass with his thumb again. “I actually felt it get hard for me,” he murmured. “The moment I touched it.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten past Chloe.” She tried to hold onto her sanity. “And I’ve had the same experience with you. Different body part, though.” She flicked her lashes down, back up.

He smiled, a baring of teeth. Spared a glance at the man he’d left who’d resumed his seat and was watching them with avid interest, that amused look still on his attractive face. “I would have brought ammunition to distract Chloe.”

“He is quite something.” She raised a brow, teasing him, something she’d never contemplated doing before. “I didn’t think your taste in submissives ran to the same gender.”

Tyler chuckled, slid an arm around her, turned them so they were to all

appearances casually strolling back toward his chair, but his fingers played along her hip and the top of her buttock, making her pulse race. “He’s a good friend and a tremendous artist. And—I do underscore this several times for the health and well-being of any Mistress who tries to seduce him—completely unavailable. His wife’s at a medical conference and he decided to spend a few days here until she gets back because he has a show coming up soon. He’s trying to work up a couple additional pieces at the not-so-gentle demand of his dealer. He’s done studio time here before. It’s quiet and I can keep him from going out of his mind, mostly, without Lauren.” Tyler slanted her a 64

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glance. “He’s got somewhat of an uncertain temperament in her absence, given to falling into artistic melancholy, so she likes having me watch over him.

“The reason I suspect he’s staring at you like that and the reason I don’t consider beating him up for it is you walked across the grass and his creative wheels started revving like the legs of the Road Runner in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. And of course he recognized you as a Mistress.”

“But he’s taken.”

“Irrevocably. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate the qualities when he sees them.

He is an artist, after all.” Tyler smiled. “Now you know why he’s here. Why are you here, Marguerite? And if you’re here to tell me you’re going to break it off after that kiss, you better slip off those shoes and prepare to outrun me.”

She couldn’t help it, she did smile this time. When she put up her hand to cover it, he caught it, brought it to his lips, began to nibble on her fingers.

“Tyler, there are people watching us.”

“There are people watching you. Thinking what a lucky bastard I am. Tell me why you’re here. I want to hear it. I need to hear it.”

She closed her hand into a fist, held it there in his grasp and summoned up her courage to look at him. Something in her expression apparently warned him, for he stopped the easy flirting. He let her go, studied her face. “What is it, angel?”

She made it a countdown. She would just count to five and say it. Words. They

were just